This is an excerpt from my poem “Views/Influence”, where I want to come clean about how life is beyond the screen here in GAZA, when it's easy to speculate over our pain but never really get us to be seen. To be heard.
I was promised with their help, but when it didn't come—even though I was told it would, my hope crumbled apart in a tearing pain. How come the only people to blame has to be us?









